King Edmund grinned, lifting a handful of gold coins, letting them fall back into the bag with a satisfying clink.
He turned to Gilmon, shaking his head in amusement.
"Gilmon, this is what we call a tribute! Not like those nobles who love war and send me silver coins."
Gilmon chuckled. "Truly, Your Majesty. A real tribute from a real ruler."
Edmund leaned back, fingers tapping the armrest of his throne.
"Hehā¦ Armand really has risen, huh?"
His eyes flicked toward the delegation leader.
"Tell your lord that if he has time, he should visit me sometime."
The delegation leader nodded respectfully.
"As you wish, Your Highness."
Edmund smirked.
"I know the war between him and those stupid Coalition fools just endedā¦ but honestly, I'm bored here."
He exhaled, stretching slightly.
"It's been a while since I had a proper drink with that bastard."
King Edmund leaned back, staring at the gold coins with a thoughtful expression.
Then, with a quiet chuckle, he mutteredā
"Garius could have declared independence."
The court stilled.
Even Gilmon's smirk faded slightly, listening carefully.
"He could have risen as the ruler of his own countryā¦ built his own kingdomā¦ and no one could have stopped him."
Edmund's fingers tapped slowly against the armrest.
"And yetā¦"
His eyes softened, just a little.
"ā¦He chose to remain with my kingdom."
The weight of those words hung in the air.
A man like Gariusāwith his military strength, his resources, his intelligenceā
Could have easily broken away and carved his own empire.
But he didn't.
Becauseā
"He really is my best friend."
Edmund smirked, shaking his head.
"Andā¦ he's still keeping his promise."
The promise they had made years ago.
The court remained silent.
No one spoke.
Because they all knewā
These were words not of a king speaking of a vassal.
But of a friend speaking of another friend.
Inside King Edmund's Mind
"Gariusā¦ you really meant it, huh?"
As he sat upon his throne, his expression remained unreadable.
But his mind drifted to the past.
A memory from years ago.
Back when they were still young nobles, standing side by side.
Before the Blessing Ceremony.
Before they reached the age of twelve.
Before the weight of the throne and rulership fell upon them.
That dayā
Garius had stood before him, arms crossed, his expression calm and certain.
And in a voice that carried no doubt, no hesitation, he had saidā
"I will make sure Armand stays as your kingdom's vassalā¦ for as long as you live."
Not for a generation.
Not for stability.
But for as long as Edmund himself lived.
A promise that wasn't political.
But personal.
Even now, decades laterā
Garius was still keeping that promise.
Edmund exhaled softly, his eyes flickering with something rareā
A quiet understanding.
He smirked to himself.
"Idiot. Always so stubborn."
King Edmund remembered.
Back when he first met Garius.
At that time, Edmund was just the third prince.
Not yet a king. Not even an heir.
Just a royal prince sent to noble school, surrounded by ambitious young nobles who either feared him, flattered him, or avoided him altogether.
But on the very first dayā
He met a boy who did none of those things.
A mere lower baron's youngest sonā¦
Who had the audacity to challenge him to a fistfight.
And not out of hatred.
Not out of jealousy.
But just because he felt like it.
Edmund smirked as the memory resurfaced.
The moment their eyes met, Garius had grinned and cracked his knuckles.
And with zero hesitation, he had saidā
"You look strong. Let's fight."
The entire classroom had frozen.
A lower baron's son was challenging a royal prince to a fistfight.
Everyone expected Edmund to refuse.
To punish him. To put him in his place.
Insteadā
Edmund had rolled up his sleeves.
And punched Garius in the face.
Edmund remembered it clearly.
The moment his fist connected with Garius' cheekā
Instead of getting angry, instead of backing downā
Garius grinned.
And punched him right back.
The two of them staggered, then laughed.
And just like thatā
The fight truly began.
No formal duels. No noble etiquette. Just fists.
They weren't fighting as a prince and a noble's son.
They were fighting as two boys who loved a challenge.
Blow after blow, they traded punches, neither willing to back down.
Their faces bruised. Their knuckles bled.
But their grins never faded.
Meanwhileā
Their escorts were in chaos.
The royal guards panicked, trying to intervene but terrified of hurting a prince.
On the other sideā
Alf, Erinnete, and Hesbeirn were desperately trying to stop Garius.
"Young master! Please stop!" Alf yelled, his voice unusually frantic.
"You're fighting the prince, you fool!" Erinnete scolded, her hands hovering as if she wanted to drag him away.
Hesbeirn?
He just sighed and rubbed his forehead.
But neither Garius nor Edmund listened.
The moment one got knocked down, they just got back up and kept swinging.
They were laughing, bleeding, and having the time of their lives.
Edmund chuckled to himself as more memories flooded in.
Not just the first fight.
But all the chaos that followed.
Like the time Garius kept stealing his food.
One moment, Edmund would be happily eating. The next?
Garius would snatch a piece of meat, wave it in front of him with a smug grinā
And run.
"Oi! That's mine, you bastard!" Edmund had shouted, immediately chasing after him.
Garius?
He laughed while running, waving the stolen meat like a trophy.
And when Edmund finally caught upā
Garius ate it in front of him.
Slowly.
With zero shame.
Edmund had been furious.
But Garius? He just grinned and saidā
"If you don't want your food stolen, eat faster."
Edmund clicked his tongue even now, sitting on his throne. "That bastard."
And thenā
Another memory surfaced.
Garius and his Pekko.
The damned Pekko that made Edmund jealous.
While he had a royal warhorse, trained for battle, disciplined and strongā
Garius had a Pekko that could dance.
Dance.
Edmund could still remember the way that oversized bird moved.
Hopping, spinning, flapping its wings in rhythmāall while Garius proudly showed it off.
Meanwhile, Edmund's horse?
Nothing.
It just stood there.
And every time he tried to make it moveāGarius just laughed.
"Edmund! Your horse is stiff! Maybe it needs dance lessons!"
Edmund groaned at the memory.
He had seriously considered trading his royal steed for a Pekko that day.
But amidst all that nonsenseā
They became best friends.
And not just them.
Arnold.
The son of the headmaster.
And nowāthe current headmaster himself.
Arnold was always challenging Garius.
Magic duels, fistfights, strategy gamesā
And he lost.
Every.
Single.
Time.
Edmund smiled.
He could still picture it.
Arnold huffing in frustration, covered in dirt or spell dust, while Garius just smirked and said, "Again?"
They had shared meals.
Did mischievous things together.
Fought, laughed, and grew stronger side by side.
That was whyā
Even now, as a kingā
Garius was still his best friend.
( End of Chapter )